


On Wings of Steel 2: The Birth of Robin

by SpoonyLupin



Series: On Wings of Steel [2]
Category: Batman (1966)
Genre: Cheesy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Bonding, Prequel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoonyLupin/pseuds/SpoonyLupin
Summary: Before he was Robin, he was Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne.  Since learning of his guardian's double life, Dick has learned to live with Bruce's frequent absences.  Dick has also promised that whatever happens, he will never put his life in danger by trying to take the law into his own hands.  However, when the Joker rears his ugly head and Batman mysteriously vanishes, Dick feels as if he has no choice but to follow in his guardian's footsteps as a masked vigilante.  [Prequel to the 1966 Batman television series.]





	1. The Joker's Playing Card

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and William Dozier, and various publishers including, but not limited to, DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment, Time Warner, ABC, 20th Century Fox, and Greenway Productions. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Author’s note: This picks up about a week after the end of the first story and the Joker remains on the loose.
> 
>  
> 
> _This story is dedicated in loving memory_  
>  _to the man who always was and always will be_  
>  _my one and only Batman_  
>  _Adam West_  
>  _September 19, 1928 ~ June 9, 2017_  
>  _Thank you for the Bat-memories <3_  
> 

_As the afternoon dawns warm and sunny in the fair city of Gotham, something strange is afoot at a quaint used bookstore called Yesterday’s Imaginings…_

When the tiny silver bell above the door jingled quietly, no one in the shop looked up. They were all too engrossed in their browsing and reading to notice the sound that signified another customer was joining them. That, however, changed when a maniacal laugh broke the peaceful quiet.

“It’s the Joker!” a woman in a large hat yelled, dropping the book she was looking at with a loud _thump_. She brought her hands up to her cheeks in fear.

Several of the other customers screamed in horror at the loudly-dressed, white-faced villain who had just crossed the threshold into the store.

“Oh,” the Joker replied, sounding slightly disappointed, “but I haven’t even done anything wrong yet.” He laughed again before adding, “Surely just walking into a store isn’t a criminal offense!”

“What do you want, Joker?” the man behind the counter asked defensively, appearing to be ready to spring into action and protect his patrons if need be.

“I may simply be here to purchase some used books like the rest of you fine people,” the Joker said, his painted-on smile curving even more around his pale face.

“I can’t imagine a criminal like yourself doing anything as honest as _buying_ books,” another customer interjected. “Wouldn’t you steal them instead?”

“Oh,” the Joker said sadly, “do give me some credit. Don’t worry, I’m not here to steal any of your precious books. Certainly not any of these old and dusty things you have lying around.” The Joker made his way over to a shelf of rather dingy-looking books and ran one of his gloved fingers over them. When he pulled his finger up to his face, he stared at it in a disgusted manner. He rubbed his thumb against his dusty finger and muttered, “Ew. Quite the contrary, in fact. I have much bigger fish to fry at the moment. Yes.”

“Then I suggest you get to it and get out,” the shopkeeper said, thrusting his chin in the direction of the door. He crossed his arms over his chest and added, “We don’t need any of your kind of riffraff disrupting my customers.”

“I just want you to remember that I was here,” the Joker said, followed by a slightly deranged laugh. He took several jaunty steps across the shop, approaching the counter.

The shopkeeper took a small step backwards, tensing himself and preparing to fight off the arch villain in front of him if necessary.

“Come now,” the Joker replied. “I mean you no harm and I’m a man of my word.”

“Tell that to Warden Crichton,” another one of the customers sneered, “the man who let you out of prison, thinking you’d gone straight.”

“Now, for all you know,” the Joker said, “I have gone straight. Let’s not jump to conclusions. How are criminals in this city ever supposed to right their wrongs if no one wants to give them a fair chance?”

“Yes, let’s not jump to conclusions,” the store owner mumbled sarcastically. Turning his attention back to the Joker, he added, “You want me to remember that you were here? Done. Now you can leave.”

“Just one more thing,” the Joker said, holding up an index finger to emphasize his words. “I want you to be sure to tell Batman that I was here as well when he comes around to ask about me, because you know as well as I do that he will be here. A little too late, mind, but he will come. But just as a reminder-“ The Joker suddenly stopped, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.

This caused the shop owner to jump in fear, but the Joker had simply withdrawn an ordinary playing card from his pocket. He laid it face-up on the counter before the shopkeeper, pushing it towards the other man with a single finger. When the store clerk glanced down at it, he saw a slightly maniacal and gaudily-colored drawing of a jester staring up at him. The word “JOKER” was printed in black ink across the top of the card, just like one would find in an ordinary deck of playing cards.

“You’ll be sure to remember now, won’t you?” the Joker asked, breaking into a laugh once more. “That’s all I want, my dear man.” Turning around to face the rest of the shop, he added, “You may continue with your shopping now, ladies and gentlemen. My business here is done.”

Cackling again, the Joker pranced out of the shop, oblivious to the looks of confusion and disbelief on the faces of the citizens behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~

_Meanwhile, deep below stately Wayne Manor, home of millionaire Bruce Wayne and his youthful ward, Dick Grayson…_

Dick, clad in his favorite grey sweat suit, adjusted the bright red boxing gloves on his hands. He steadied himself on his feet before he began pummeling his fists against the tan-colored focus mitts that Batman was holding up.

“Turn your whole body into the punch,” Batman instructed, continuing to brace himself against Dick’s punches. “That will make them more powerful. You’re light on your feet. That’ll help you. Try and use that to your advantage.”

Dick adjusted himself, trying to keep all of Bruce’s instructions in mind. He began hopping around more with each punch he threw.

“You’re too tense,” Batman pointed out. “Relax, calm down, and _breathe_. You’re expelling too much energy by being so anxious.”

Dick sucked in a breath and stepped back from Bruce. Lowering his hands to his sides, he hung his head. “I’m sorry. I should know these things. I _do_ know these things. This is basic stuff. I just feel so out of practice.” Dick stopped, swiveling his head around to try and alleviate some of the tension he was feeling. “When everything happened with the Riddler and his henchmen, I was running on adrenaline. I didn’t have time to think about what I was doing or what position my body was in. I just acted and it came so naturally. Now I’m thinking too much about what I need to do and...” Dick took a moment to think about his next words and he opened his mouth to speak, but then changed his mind. He closed his mouth tightly.

Batman turned to pulling off his focus mitts, watching Dick closely. When he set the focus mitts down on the desk next to him, he stepped behind Dick. Placing his gloved hands on top of Dick’s shoulders, he began massaging them.

“What?” Batman finally asked after nearly a minute. “You were going to say something else. What was it?”

Dick glanced back over his shoulder at Batman, their eyes meeting for a very long time. A moment later, Dick started pulling his boxing gloves off before setting them next to the focus mitts on the desk.

“I’m better than this,” Dick said miserably, staring down at the hard, concrete floor of the Batcave. “Even now, with feeling so out of practice, I know I am.”

Batman hummed in agreement. “I was there, remember? When you were fighting the Riddler, I saw how well and how hard you must have been trained. Even if you were out of practice, it was shining through. Maybe not an expert, but you are talented. That much was clear.”

“Therein lays the problem,” Dick said, before slowly inhaling and exhaling a large breath.

Batman didn’t push him to go on, but instead continued to massage Dick’s shoulders until the young boy was ready to speak.

“It just…” Dick began quietly, “it reminds me too much of my father. He was the one who got me interested in martial arts to begin with. All of this just reminds me so much of him, of the sparring matches we used to have…” Dick trailed off, sucking in a sharp breath that was punctuated by a sob. “I don’t know. I don’t know why it’s getting to me so much.”

A moment of silence fell between them, during which Batman dropped his hands from Dick’s shoulders. It was Batman’s turn to let out a heavy sigh before coming around to Dick’s side. He gripped one of Dick’s shoulders again and began guiding him over to the chairs that were sitting on the far side of the desk.

“Let’s sit for a minute,” Batman said, directing Dick to one of the chairs. After his young ward had taken his seat, Batman took the other one, scooting it across the floor until he was mere feet away from Dick.

Dick didn’t say anything, but the slight redness and moisture in his eyes were very apparent. He wiped at his eyes in frustration.

“I know,” Batman said after a long pause. “You never quite know what will bring up those memories. You’ll go along all day, thinking you’re fine, and then out of nowhere, it’ll just hit you.”

“It’s been well over a year,” Dick said, still wiping at his eyes. “Shouldn’t that be enough time?” He sounded frustrated.

In a way, Bruce felt guilty for this. At first, he hadn’t quite been so keen on training Dick to fight. More and more, however, he had come to see that perhaps it was a good thing for him. He liked seeing Dick so excited about something, especially something that the two of them could do together. Bruce had also come to realize that perhaps Dick would feel safer if he knew how to better defend himself. Hopefully, nothing like Dick’s run-in with the Riddler would ever happen again, but if it did, at least Dick might be better equipped to deal with it. That, however, brought up a new swell of issues that Batman supposed he should have seen coming.

“Dick,” Batman said. He reached out for his young ward’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. He leaned in close before he said, “If I’ve learned anything in my own loss, it’s that there is no time limit on healing. At all. Do you hear me? No matter how much time has passed, it can still hurt terribly. Nothing about this makes you weak, okay?”

“So it never gets better?” Dick asked, sounding a bit miserable and maybe even a little bit panicked.

“That’s not what I said,” Batman corrected. He leaned in even closer to Dick until their faces were only mere inches apart. “It does get better. Every single day. I promise you it does. But sadly…there will still always be a large piece of me missing. The part of me that misses my parents. And it hurts. I know it does. Even when I think I’m doing okay, something may happen to remind me of them and drive home the fact that they’re not with me anymore. But then it passes, and…you move on. But it’s a daily struggle for me. It is. One that gets easier over time, but one that never quite goes away.”

A few tears had escaped the bottoms of Dick’s eyelids to slide down his cheeks. Bruce used his thumbs to wipe them away.

“It’s okay to still be sad,” Batman said firmly. “It’s okay now and it’ll still be okay when you’re my age. Or when you’re Alfred’s age. Or Aunt Harriet’s age.”

This brought the tiniest smile to Dick’s lips and he let out a small breath of laughter.

“I want you to promise me,” Batman told him, “that you’ll never think you’re weak for missing them or wanting to cry about it. Nothing about that makes you weak at all. Just human. Like I said, I still miss my parents every single day. Would you think that makes me weak?”

Dick shook his head harshly. “You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“And you’re not weak either,” Batman replied. “Every single day since I’ve met you, I marvel at how strong you are. How much of a fighter you are. I’ve never thought otherwise and I never will. Even after everything happened with your parents, and then the Riddler, you didn’t let any of that stop you. You kept right on going, and you have no idea how much of myself I see in you because of that. You’re strong just like I am. Being sad and crying doesn’t make it otherwise. Okay?”

Dick swallowed audibly and nodded before reaching up to wipe away the tears stains on his cheeks.

“And it does get easier,” Batman went on. “It won’t always hurt quite this much. It won’t always be this painful to do things that remind you of them. Please don’t ever think that. Just look at how far you’ve come since it happened. I seem to remember you telling me that you struggled to even get out of bed some days.”

“I did,” Dick admitted, nodding, “but it hasn’t been that way for a long time. At least, not since I came here and we started getting closer. Then I became so invested in spending more time with you, spending the day in bed was the furthest thought from my mind. And…I don’t know,” Dick added before trailing off. He frowned in thought and said, “Even when you’re busy and I’m here by myself, you’re so much of an inspiration to me. I just think about how much you do for everyone else and I never even think about wanting to spend the day in bed anymore. There’s so much we can do. So much we do to better ourselves and the world. Life’s entirely too short to waste it.”

“Something you never would have said just after it happened,” Batman said, “is it?”

“No,” Dick replied, and his voice was softer now, more content. He took a slow deep breath before continuing on. “You’re right. It does get easier. It is getting easier. And I have you to thank for that.” He glanced up at Batman, his eyes wide and his smile growing larger.

Batman opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, he was interrupted by the loud beeping of the Batphone. Bruce’s mouth snapped shut and his eyes immediately closed in regret under his mask, signaling his guilt that something was once again getting in the way of his relationship with Dick.

“Answer it,” Dick told him. More and more, he was coming to understand just how important Bruce’s role as Batman was, not just to him but to all the citizens of Gotham City. Dick always thought about how many countless people Batman must have saved over the years, Dick included. Dick couldn’t imagine how horrible he would feel if something happened that Batman could have prevented, and Dick would never stand in the way of that.

When Batman still didn’t move from his spot, Dick added, “Someone needs you.”

Batman squeezed one of Dick’s shoulders tightly in response. Without another word, Batman quickly got up from his seat, his deep blue cape swirling out behind him, and made his way over to the phone.

“Yes, Commissioner?”

“It seems as if the Joker has struck again,” came Commissioner Gordon’s voice from the other end of the line.

“I knew he was going to,” Batman replied. “What’s he done now?”

“The exact same thing as before,” the Commissioner explained in confusion. “He went into that used bookstore at the corner of Fourth and Elm. He simply told them to remember he was there, left a joker playing card just as he did before, and he left. The patrons and storeowner are just as puzzled over this as we are. It seems so innocuous.”

“You and I both know there’s nothing innocuous about the Joker!” Batman exclaimed. “He wouldn’t do something like this just for the fun of confusing us. I know he’s planning something much larger and far more sinister. But what?”

“I wish I knew, Batman.”

Batman expelled a heavy breath. “As do I. I’ll be there momentarily.”

When Batman replaced the phone receiver in its cradle, he slowly turned around to face Dick.

“The Joker again?” Dick asked curiously.

“Yes,” Batman replied, “with the exact same M.O. as before.”

“Batman?” Dick asked. “Can you please not use that expression?” He made a face and shuddered visibly.

“Right,” Batman said sheepishly, realizing what Dick was getting at. Not very long ago, just after Dick had figured out his secret identity, M.O. had been the answer to the Riddler’s very first riddle that had led them both on a long and twisting journey.

“Sorry,” Batman apologized.

“But you mean he just left a playing card at another store again?”

“Precisely.” Batman bit at his bottom lip before he added, “I’m sorry to have to end our training session so suddenly-“

“It wasn’t even much of a training session,” Dick cut him off gently. “It kind of evolved into more of a bonding session. Not that I’m complaining. I like bonding sessions.” He found himself smiling up at Bruce again.

“Me too.”

“But go,” Dick urged him. “I know you’re anxious to get to the bottom of this, and I don’t blame you. Knowing the Joker is clearly planning something ominous gives me the willies.”

Batman slowly approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder again. “I know. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m going to get started on my term-paper for English class while you’re gone,” Dick told him. “I finally figured out what I’m going to write about.”

“ _Animal Farm_?” Batman asked with a knowing smile. Ever since his young ward had read George Orwell’s book for his English class a few months ago, he’d been going on and on about how it had been his favorite book that they had read the entire year.

“Of course,” Dick said. “We’re supposed to write about who our favorite character was that we read about this year. I finally narrowed it down to Boxer as my favorite character…because he reminds me of you.”

“It’s nice to know that a rather dim-witted horse reminds you of me. Thanks,” Batman said sarcastically.

Dick snickered. “You know that’s not the reason. It’s because he’s strong, and hard-working, and kind, and he wants to better his mind. And the part that I always remember the most clearly was how he always gave his food to the other animals when he was starving himself. _That’s_ what reminds me of you. Because I know you would do the same.”

“Without a second thought.”

“Be careful, okay?”

“I always am.”

Batman gave Dick’s shoulder one last squeeze before he took off for the Batmobile. A moment later, the car’s tires were squealing as the vehicle roared out of the Batcave. Dick had gotten up from his seat to watch him go, and the oddest feeling erupted inside his stomach. _How would it feel to ride in that seat next to Batman?_ he wondered.

“Master Dick?” came Alfred’s voice from behind him, shaking Dick from his thoughts. “Would you like me to bring some cookies and milk into the living room while you work on your paper?”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick replied, “but I think I’ll work on it down here while I wait for Bruce to come back.” Dick frowned momentarily before asking, “Is it weird that I take so much comfort in being in a cave of all places?”

“No, sir,” Alfred replied, a knowing smile on his face, “because I do too. Why do you think I’m down here so often? And at least this way, I’ll know as soon as possible if something happens and Master Bruce needs me to act.”

“I know,” Dick said. “I know I wouldn’t be able to do much if a situation like that did arise, but I think I would like to know just the same.”

Dick had no idea exactly how much he would come to dwell on those words in a very short amount of time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Almost three pages of his term-paper later, Dick jumped nearly a foot in the air when the Batmobile roared back into the Batcave. He had been so engrossed in his paper, the rest of the world might have ceased to exist for Dick. Immediately setting down his pen, Dick stood up from his chair and turned to watch Batman getting out of his vehicle.

“Well?” Dick wasted no time in asking his guardian.

“I’m afraid I’m still no closer to figuring out what the Joker is up to,” Batman said around a sigh, approaching Dick. “Exactly the same… _actions_ as before. Exactly the same playing card.” Batman reached into his utility belt, withdrawing the Joker’s card that had been left at the bookstore. He held it up for Dick to examine.

“I know the last card didn’t hold any other clues,” Dick said, “but this one could be worth checking on the Chemo-Electric Secret Writing Detector.”

“Right,” Batman replied, quickly making his way over to the machine in question. He placed the joker card on top of the flashing screen and then held the small pair of binoculars up to his eyes. He took a moment to examine the card while Dick approached silently.

A few moments later, Batman set down the goggles and shook his head miserably. “A part of me rather doubted there would be,” Batman said, turning to his young ward. “There aren’t any markings or writing on it that appear out of the ordinary. Just an ordinary playing card from an everyday deck.”

“The Joker didn’t leave anything else behind?” Dick asked as Batman began pacing the floor of the Batcave.

“I’m afraid not,” Batman replied, one of his hands going up to his chin in thought. “I went over that bookstore with a fine-toothed comb and I couldn’t find anything that might have been from the Joker. It’s exactly what happened when he went to that jewelry store last week.”

“Could it be something with the locations then?”

Batman stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in deep thought. A moment later, he crossed the room to the blackboard and wasted no time in picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the names of the stores the Joker had hit so far.

_Lucky Jade Jewelry_  
_Yesterday’s Imaginings Used Bookstore_

“What do these things have in common?” Batman asked, setting down the piece of chalk on its narrow ledge and turning back to Dick.

“They’re both businesses,” Dick offered sheepishly. “They both offer goods for sale which could be priceless. But the Joker didn’t _steal_ anything. That’s what gets me. And I don’t see what else books and jewelry have in common.” After a heavy sigh, he admitted, “Honestly, Batman, this one’s got me stumped.”

“Me too,” Batman agreed. “I keep coming back to my very first idea. Remember what I said last week? That the Joker is very clearly establishing an alibi by being somewhere and telling the people to remember he was there. But nothing else happened in the city during those times. I had Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara go back through the police records for the day the Joker went to the jewelry store. Nothing at all happened to catch my eye. Simply petty crimes and the like. Nothing that might attract the Joker or his cohorts. The Commissioner’s going to get back to me on any other crimes that happened this afternoon, but I have a feeling that, too, will prove to be just as fruitless. But I know the Joker’s up to something much larger than this!” Batman swung a hand in the air in frustration before resuming his pacing. “He’s too tricky of a fiend not to be, despite all of his insistence to the contrary. The citizens at the bookstore said the Joker kept going on about going straight and how he wanted to be given a fair chance. But we both know that’s not the case.” Batman trailed off, appearing deep in thought.

Dick stared at the words on the chalkboard, as if hoping and praying for them to make any sort of sense to him. To suddenly reveal some sort of pattern, or secret, or riddle they might be hiding. But then something hit him.

“Batman?”

“Hm?” Batman hummed absentmindedly, not turning around.

“I was just thinking,” Dick said, “what if it is about the playing cards after all?”

Finally turning to face his young ward again, Batman said, “What do you mean?”

Coming to his guardian’s side, Dick said, “What if it was simpler than that? Maybe it has less to do with these stores-“ Dick gestured towards the blackboard, “-and more to do with where the playing cards came from.” He raised his eyebrows.

Batman narrowed his eyes in thought. “You think it could be that simple?”

“My dad always said, ‘the simplest solution is usually correct.’”

The very corner of Batman’s lips curled up into a smile. “Yes, a principle of philosophy accredited to William of Ockham. Your dad taught you about philosophy then, did he?”

“No,” Dick said around a small laugh. “Philosophy was probably one of his least favorite subjects. He was just big on old axioms. ‘A penny saved is a penny earned’ and ‘haste makes waste.’” Things like that.”

“A lot of wisdom can be found in those old sayings.”

“But do you think it could be true this time?” Dick asked. “I mean, this _is_ the Joker we’re talking about. Is anything ever what it seems with him?”

“Well,” Batman asked, “it’s worth a try, isn’t it? We don’t have any other leads right now anyway. What harm could it do to check out? And I know just where to start!” Batman said, snapping his fingers, which made a dull rustling sound through the fabric of his gloves. “The Joker’s Wild Card Company has been closed and defunct for years. It’s probably not even safe to set foot in, but of course, that’s never stopped the criminal element before. You’re right – it seems like such an obvious solution now that I say it out loud.”

“Just be careful, Batman,” Dick pleaded, his expression suddenly turning into one of distress. “I hate the thought of you going to into a place like that, especially one that the Joker might be inhabiting. Who knows what he might have done to it.”

“I told you, I always am careful,” Batman said around an encouraging smile. “You know I am. I don’t take any unnecessary risks. I’ll keep my eye out in case the building looks too unsafe to enter and I’ll come up with an alternative plan.”

Dick took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. And you’ll call if you’re going to be late?”

“Absolutely,” Batman reassured him. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you wait up all night worrying about me again.”

“I know you won’t,” Dick said, watching as Batman made his way to the Batmobile once more.

Little did Dick know that that was exactly what he would be doing – waiting up all night, worrying about what had become of his guardian.

_Good grief, Batfans!_  
_What could the Joker possibly be up to this time?_  
_Is Batman walking into another one of his arch enemy’s nefarious traps?_  
_What will Dick do when he doesn’t hear from Batman?_

__

_For the answers to these and other terrifying questions,_  
_Tune in next time…_  
_Same fan site…_  
_Same fan channel._

_For Batman’s sake, keep your cards close to your chest until then!_


	2. Scarred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I am back! I apologize profusely for not updating my stories in forever. As some of you may know, my father had several rather serious health problems around this time last year, and he ultimately passed away this past April. My dad was like my best friend and this has understandably wreaked havoc with my inspiration. It’s been really hard to get back into the proper headspace for writing, especially for such a story that features a close father-son relationship. I hope I still have an audience out there and that you’re still looking forward to my updates. I am attempting to do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this November, so updates should be coming regularly over the next few weeks if it all goes according to plan. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding, and I hope you enjoy the continuation of my Batman saga!

_When we last left our Dynamic Duo, Batman had just sped off in the Batmobile to investigate a possible lead in his latest battle against the Joker. Let’s see where his clues have taken him this time!_

The Batmobile screeched to a halt outside the Joker’s Wild Card Company, an old and defunct factory that used to be one of the largest suppliers of playing cards in Gotham City and the surrounding areas. A tiny part of Batman suspected that this location just might be too easy, too obvious, but he wasn’t sure where else to go. Both he and Dick had been at a loss as to what the Joker could possibly be up to, so there wasn’t any harm in checking this out, was there? After all, it was better than sitting around and wondering.

Sure, it could be a trap, but Batman would simply have to stay on his toes. That was all. Nothing much new there. It was simply par for the course when these dastardly criminals were involved.

As he got out of the Batmobile, Batman’s eyes went from the large loading dock at the rear of the factory up towards the windows on the second and third floors. He took a moment to weigh his options, wondering which would be the best way to enter. The windows had been boarded up, but Batman quickly spotted one on the third floor where the boards had begun falling away. Only one weathered plank remained completely in place, while another splintered board looked to be hanging on by a nail or two.

Even if the Joker was here, it was unlikely, Batman decided, that his gang would be using the top floor of the building. They’d most likely be drawn to the convenience of the first floor or the second floor at the very least. Batman couldn’t see any reason for them to trudge up to the third floor of all things. Batman could easily sneak down on them from above if that was the case.

Quickly drawing his Batarang from his utility belt, Batman looked up at the building, deciding on the best place to secure his rope. He finally decided on the parapet, the short, protective brick wall on the edge of the roof, just next to the smokestack. Leaning back and raising his arm above his head, Batman threw his Batarang up above the third floor towards the roof. The Batarang curved neatly around the bricks that marked the edge of the roof, latching itself securely onto the other side. Batman quickly gave the rope a few sharp tugs before he began his ascent towards the third floor.

When Batman reached his destination, he braced himself on the Batrope, then quickly wrapped one gloved hand on the lower board that still covered the window. This plank had already been loose, so one of the nails gave way quickly. The other nail, however, still remained in place. Batman then simply let the board drop vertical, leaving it hanging on by the small piece of metal.

Batman reached up for the second board next. This one was still quite a bit more secure, so he had to tug on it several times before he was able to pry the nails out. When he finally removed the board, he hesitated for a moment. He glanced down at the ground, deciding he couldn’t simply let the board drop; it could easily hit a passerby in the area and hurt them. Safety first was always one of his priorities. Luckily, the window itself had already been broken by the years of neglect, so Batman very slowly and carefully pushed the board inside. He didn’t release his grip on it until it was steadily resting at an angle between the floor and wall below the window; it wouldn’t do to possibly warn the Joker’s gang of his presence by carelessly dropping the board and making a racket.

Next, Batman hoisted himself up a little more on the rope, nimbly climbing over the ledge of the window and setting his boots down carefully on the other side. A part of him was surprised by what he saw, but then again, another part of him had entirely been expecting it. It _had_ all been too easy, just as Batman surmised as he had pulled up to the building.

The Joker was sitting at a small playing card table with three of his minions just across the room. They were playing some sort of card game; they all appeared entirely enthralled in the cards in their hands and didn’t seem to have noticed Batman enter. Batman didn’t know what else he expected them to be doing. What else would have occupied their time at a playing card company after all?

The henchman to the Joker’s left reached across the corner of the table, pulling one of the cards from the Joker’s hand. The minion immediately grimaced in dissatisfaction as he turned the card around while the Joker began to laugh maniacally. It took Batman only a moment to realize they were playing Old Maid of all things. Not Poker like Batman had been expecting. Not even Gin Rummy or Hearts. No. The great Clown Prince of Crime was playing a children’s card game.

“I would have thought such a daring criminal would have outgrown Old Maid by now,” Batman commented, carefully setting his hands on his utility belt, ready for action.

Neither the Joker nor any of his minions seemed the least bit perturbed by Batman’s voice echoing across the room. The Joker simply looked up at Caped Crusader like this was something they did every day and replied, “Old Maid is a classic game that harkens back to childhood, yeah. Besides, in all the time it’s taken for you to show up here, we’ve tired of everything else, haven’t we, boys?”

The henchman now holding the Old Maid card replied, “You said we were just too stupid to keep up with anything else, Boss.”

The Joker rolled his eyes. “You’re also too stupid to know when to keep your mouth shut, you dunderhead!” he snapped.

So they had been waiting for him. Batman didn’t entirely find this surprising either. “You know,” Batman said by way of an explanation, “I must admit that it took me a while to arrive at such an obvious solution. Your… _helpers_ aside, you’re beyond this, aren’t you? Leaving _playing cards_ when you want me to come to a _playing card company_? Why not just spray paint the address in big red letters somewhere? That would make it just as clear.”

The Joker didn’t answer this, but instead leaned back in his folding chair, letting out one of his signature hyena-like laughs. He began laughing so hard, he was kicking his feet up and down against the cement floor, letting up little motes of dust every time he did.

Once he had calmed down, the Joker said, “You clearly haven’t arrived at the bigger solution yet, otherwise you wouldn’t even be here.” He paused for a moment, taking a moment to look over the cards in his hands. Without looking up at Batman, he added, “Sometimes much simpler clues are necessary for when you’re having your own dunderhead moments.” When the Joker raised his eyes to his adversary again, he said, “Such as now.”

“And how do you intend on finishing that ‘bigger solution’ when I don’t plan on letting you leave?” Batman asked, taking a few steps across the room.

“Isn’t it delicious?” the Joker asked his followers, finally standing up from his chair. They all followed suit as the Joker added, “He thinks he has us right where he wants us, and he doesn’t even realize that the said ‘bigger solution’ may already be well on its way to being complete.”

“Is it just me, Boss,” one the Joker’s minions asked, “or is Batman getting dimmer and dimmer by the moment?” The four of them began closing the distance.

Batman didn’t think this man was one to talk when the Joker had just been commenting on their lack of intelligence, but that wasn’t important just then. As it was, Batman didn’t like being so close to the wall with so little room to move around. He slowly sidestepped to the left and farther into the room as his opponents approached, allowing himself a bit more freedom of movement.

“Definitely dimmer, Jack,” the Joker said, nodding.

This was when Batman noticed that all three henchmen were wearing nametags, labeling them as _Jack_ , _King_ , and _Ace_. The Joker was nothing if not predictable and here he was, insulting Batman’s intelligence. Although he never commented on it, Batman always vaguely wondered if the nametags were meant to be ironic, or if the various villains he faced genuinely needed them.

“I still bet I can beat you while outnumbered,” Batman simply said, widening his stance and raising his fists beside him.

“We’ll see about that,” the Joker drawled, launching himself in Batman’s direction.

Batman easily dodged out of the way, then pivoted on his feet and landed a punch in the Joker’s side. The Joker let out a heavy breath as the wind was knocked out of him, then took several steps backwards. However, it wasn’t long before King came at him next, his own fists flailing aimlessly around in the air. It occurred to Batman that this particular henchman wasn’t a particularly good fighter, but Batman chose not to say anything. Instead, he focused all of his energy on landing a well-aimed punch square in King’s jaw.

King went flying out of the way, and Batman only had a moment to reflect on how easy this was. Something in the back of his mind told him this was all going horribly wrong, but he pushed the thought away as Ace came running at him. The henchmen didn’t even bother to punch him or hit him in any way; rather, Ace simply used his hands to push Batman square in the chest. Not quite prepared for the impact, Batman backed up a few steps, trying to catch his balance. He stuck out one of his hands, planting his palm squarely on the wall to balance himself. He was now standing along the wall to the left of the window, and it occurred to him that there was a door just a few feet behind him. Batman made a mental note of this, briefly wondering where it led to, before rejoining the fray.

In the end, he wouldn’t have to wonder about what was behind the door for long.

The Joker had circled around the room, coming up behind Batman. Easily following the criminal out of the corner of his eye, Batman quickly turned around, putting up an arm to block a punch. Then Jack was next to approach him, grabbing onto Batman’s utility belt from his left. Batman turned, attempting to punch Jack, but then his hands quickly went to his belt. Yes, it was important to ward these men off, but at the same time, he didn’t want to imagine the kind of trouble he might be in if he lost his utility belt.

Batman, however, was just a bit too slow. Jack had already happened to unbuckle the belt, pulling it down and away from Batman. Batman quickly lunged for it, but he realized his mistake too late. The Joker had firmly wrapped his arms around Batman’s middle, turning and thrusting him back towards the wall.

For a moment, Batman prepared for the impact with the steel door that stood behind him. However, the door was no longer there. One of the minions had apparently pulled it open while his back had been turned. Batman was shoved into the dim and narrow room that laid beyond it and he stumbled again, attempting to regain his balance.

Batman squinted his eyes, straining to see in the darkness. He quickly realized that the only source of light in the small room was coming from above. When Batman raised his eyes to this source, he saw a sky blue circle of light several hundred feet up with a few puffy white clouds floating by. He was in the factory’s smokestack.

Batman quickly turned on his feet in the effort to get out of there, but just a moment later, the door had slammed shut. This metallic sound echoed impossibly hard and loud off of the rounded walls, causing Batman to flinch slightly at the noise.

Batman immediately lunged for the door, hoping to wrench it back open. He still couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but he laid his hands flat against the cold, hard metal at about waist height. He desperately ran them back and forth across the door’s width, searching for a doorknob, but there wasn’t one. If there had been one at some point, it had been removed and even the hole where it would have been had been covered up.

His only other option now was to try and break the door down. Batman was already fairly certain that this wouldn’t work considering how large and heavy the door was, but he decided he had to try. He immediately stepped backwards then ran forward again, sprinting full force into the door with his right shoulder. This, however, only resulted in a loud metallic echoing sound and a painful jolt expanding through his arm, shoulder, and into his back.

Batman opened his mouth in a silent cry of pain, turning backwards and leaning heavily into the door. He pressed the back of his head into the door, staring up at the round patch of blue sky above. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. They had wanted to trap him in the smokestack all along. It really had been too easy – the mindless and disorganized fighting style of the henchmen and the way they had happened to draw him towards the smokestack door. Batman supposed he wasn’t entirely surprised by this either, but he struggled to wrap his mind around what the Joker’s ultimate plan could be.

Once the radiating pain in the right side of his body began to fade, Batman slowly stepped away from the door. He turned around and backed up in an effort to try and take in more of the room, to figure out exactly what he was dealing with, but that had turned out to be a very bad idea indeed. His left heel didn’t find anything to settle onto, causing Batman to tip backwards, swinging his arms wildly behind him in an effort to catch his balance.

“Careful,” came the Joker’s voice over some sort of loudspeaker. ”You’re on a very narrow platform in there. You probably can’t see it right now. Not until your eyes adjust to the darkness, but I wouldn’t make any reckless movements if I was you.”

Batman sucked in a breath of air, his arms still waving madly in the air. He desperately glanced up at the sky far above him, briefly wondering if that would be the very last thing he would see on this earth. But then he somehow miraculously steadied himself and managed to swing himself forward, taking a step away from the very precarious edge of the plank beneath him.

Batman’s eyes were still adjusting, so he didn’t dare move again until he had a better idea of where he was. His eyes darted around the narrow room instead, waiting for the room to begin to take shape out of the dimness that surrounded him.

“Very good,” the Joker’s voice cackled over the loudspeaker. “It wouldn’t have been much fun if you had fallen right in.”

This immediately caused Batman to look downwards, wondering exactly what he would have fallen into. He still couldn’t quite see, so the Joker answered this unspoken question for him.

“Hydrochloric acid,” the Joker said. “There’s a shallow pool of it all the way down there. An ugly way to die. If you survive the three story drop, that is. I’m not quite sure which one would be worse.”

Batman would have taken the much quicker instant death that would have awaited him after such a drop rather than the slow and agonizing death by acid. He kept his mouth shut, however. He certainly wouldn’t give the Joker the satisfaction.

It occurred to Batman that he could just begin to make out the edges of the platform he was standing on. It was as wide as the door itself, a good three feet, and spanned about half of the room. The room was probably about twelve feet wide in all, again leaving Batman to wonder exactly what the Joker had planned with it. He supposed, however, that the platform he was standing on could more or less be considered a plank, something that people could possibly be forced to walk off of. At the moment, Batman couldn’t see how the Joker could force him to do so, but he wouldn’t put it past the dastardly scoundrel either. The Joker could even possibly have it rigged in some way so that it would purposefully drop him. Batman really didn’t want to think about that right now, but he supposed that now was better than later.

If it came to that, then Batman certainly had to think of an alternative. His hands immediately and instinctively went to his waist, but then it occurred to him that the Joker’s gang had already ensured that he didn’t have his utility belt to save him in this instance. Balling his hands up into fists, Batman quickly looked around the smokestack again, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness.

The entire smokestack itself was made of brick and mortar, and Batman couldn’t see very many places that he could grab onto if he needed to. There were a few areas here and there where the bricks and cement had crumbled away during the years of the factory’s disuse, but certainly nothing that would make for a practical place to cling to for dear life. Then he saw them – a few metal rungs here and there that had probably formed ladders once upon a time for the maintenance workers. Most of them had rusted and fallen away, leaving holes in the walls where they had once been.

Batman counted three of these remaining rungs – one at about the height of his shoulders directly across from the door, another one a good ten feet above that one, and one more several feet above the door itself. If worse came to worse, these metal rungs were going to be his best option if the floor suddenly fell out from under him, so to speak.

The one above the door would have been his preferred perch, as it would give him the closest access to the door while he thought of a way out. Unfortunately, it was much too high for him to reach without the contents of his utility belt. It was a good five feet above his head and there were no other footholds nearby to boost himself up on. The rung directly across from him would be his best bet; he would have to leap the six feet from the edge of the plank, but it was certainly more feasible than jumping five feet straight up.

“Putting two and two together now, Batman?” came the Joker’s voice once again, breaking Batman from his thoughts. “I’m sure you’ve surmised by now that the platform underneath you won’t remain for long. You will have to find something else to hang onto, but even then, how long will your fingers be able to hold your weight? They will give out at some time, plummeting you down to your untimely demise. Whether that will be from the acid or the fall itself remains to be seen. In any case, if you wish to put that off for as long as possible, I suggest you decide on a course of action. Now.”

The platform Batman was standing on suddenly jerked backwards towards the door. Just as Batman had suspected, it was slowly drawing into the wall and would soon leave him with nothing to stand on whatsoever. Batman directed his attention on the metal rung across from him, taking a moment to focus on it, to concentrate on exactly where he was jumping to.

Just then, the Joker made a clicking sound with his tongue, mimicking the ticking of a clock. “Your time is already running precariously thin, Caped Crusader. Soon you will be left without a leg to stand on, and do not even think about asking me for a hand in the matter.” The Joker broke off into a fit of uncontrollably laughter. “Now I would love to be able to stay and watch the show,” the Joker added when he had regained his composure, “but I have somewhere I must be. I will be back in plenty of time, however, to see the acid eating away at your remains. Farewell, Batman.”

Swallowing audibly, Batman desperately tried to block out the Joker’s antics, still focusing only on the metal rung across from him. He drew his hands into fists again, taking a few steps backwards as the platform itself drew him even closer to the very flat and smooth door behind him. He paused, took a deep breath, then made a run for it. He bolted across the platform, leaping off the end of it, and reaching his arms out towards the metal rung as he sailed through the air.

Batman’s last thought as he did this was Dick. Batman’s entire life depended on that metal rung, that was the only thing between life and death. The only thing that would bring him back home to Dick right now. Then Batman briefly wondered if the old and rusted piece of metal would even hold his weight anymore and what in the world he would even do if it did. But then he immediately put that thought out of his mind. It _had_ to hold him and he _had_ to find a way out. For Dick’s sake.

He was out of any other options.

~~~~~~~~~~

_When we last left Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, he had just seen Batman off on his latest lead involving the Joker. Sometime has passed since Dick last saw his guardian, so let us see how he is once again passing the time, waiting for Bruce to return…_

After dinner that evening, Dick had moved on up to his bedroom to continue to work on his term paper on _Animal Farm_. He sat at his desk, reading it over for about the millionth time. He hadn’t intended on finishing the entire thing tonight, but it had kept his mind off of Bruce for the evening. Otherwise, Dick probably would have been making himself frantic with worry, probably fruitlessly pacing the room, so he chose to follow Alfred’s advice on the matter – keep busy.

Now, however, it was getting impossibly late, and his term paper had worn out its welcome. Dick couldn’t think of a single thing to add to it or to change, so he supposed he was done with it, at least for the time being. He had been dreading this moment, when he would have nothing left to occupy his mind, but reading the paper over and over again was beginning to make his head spin. It didn’t quite make sense to him anymore, and his thoughts were beginning to meander to Bruce again anyway.

Dick carefully straightened the pages of his paper, then tucked them inside the bright red folder he had for his English homework. Turning around in his seat, Dick returned his folder to his bookbag, which was hanging on the back of his desk chair by the straps. He zipped his bag shut, then looked about his room, searching for something else to do.

All of his other homework was done. His bed had been made long ago, and the room itself was neat as a pin. There was absolutely nothing else he had to do right now, unless he wanted to join Alfred in dusting and cleaning the Batcave from top to bottom. Dick briefly decided against this, however; he wasn’t quite desperate enough to begin cleaning just yet. He wasn’t sure how long that would last, but he would look for something else to do right now. He supposed he could try sleeping, considering it was going on towards midnight, but Dick would never be able to calm down enough for that.

Aunt Harriet would have a fit if she knew Dick was staying up so late anymore, but it was Saturday night. At least he didn’t have to be up for school early in the morning and no one would particularly care if he wanted to sleep in for bit.

Just then, a knock came at Dick’s bedroom door.

Gasping in an excited breath of air, Dick turned towards the sound, hoping against hope that Bruce would walk in. However, when the door opened a few inches, Alfred stuck his head in.

Dick tried to hide the disappointment from his face as he asked, “Still nothing?”

“I’m afraid not, Master Dick,” Alfred whispered, coming into the room and closing the door.

“It’s been nearly ten hours,” Dick said dejectedly, shaking his head. “He would have checked in by now if he could.”

Alfred considered this for a brief moment, tilting his head back and forth before answering. “Not necessarily. He could simply be following a long string of clues and lost track of time. He does that every so often. It can be frustrating, but nothing to worry about just yet.”

“But I asked him to call me if he was going to be late!” Dick muttered. He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it down on his thigh in anger. “He promised he wouldn’t let me stay up all night worrying about him again.”

Alfred quickly crossed the room, approaching Dick and laying comforting a hand on the young boy’s shoulders. “I know,” Alfred said quietly, “but I promise I’m not concerned just yet. You know how Master Bruce gets when he begins concentrating on something in earnest.”

The very corner of Dick’s mouth curled up into a smirk. “I know,” Dick replied. “I’ve had to repeat entire stories to him while we’ve been playing chess, because he was too wrapped up in the game to pay attention.” Dick snickered. “And he’s always told me what a bad thing that is, because it’s always important to be aware of one’s surroundings. I always wondered if he did it on purpose to use it as a teaching moment, but I guess not.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agreed. “I imagine him to be sitting in the Batmobile somewhere, all of his concentration directed on solving some clue or puzzle, and he’s completely forgotten to check the time. He’ll be calling as soon as he realizes how late it’s gotten.”

Sighing again, Dick muttered, “I guess.” He looked at his bed warily. “I have no idea how I’m going to get to sleep tonight if we don’t hear from him though.”

“We don’t have to go to sleep just yet.”

“But Aunt Harriet…!”

“Doesn’t have to know,” Alfred said, winking down at Dick. “As you’ve said so yourself many times.”

“She’d be fit to be tied if she knew what’s been going on around here lately.”

“She’d be fit to be tied if she knew your guardian was Batman,” Alfred pointed out, “end of story.”

“Yeah,” Dick whispered, “especially now that I’m more or less involved in it.” Dick paused for a moment, pressing the fingers of left hand against his mouth in thought. “That’s so crazy, isn’t it? If you had told me just six months ago that I’d be aware of Batman’s secret identity and helping him, however little, with cases, I would have laughed at you. Now it’s hard for me to imagine _not_ being involved in it.”

“This is your new normal,” Alfred added.

Dick nodded solemnly. “As frustrating and worrisome as it is though, I don’t think I’d trade it for the world.” He glanced up at Alfred uncertainly. “Is that crazy too?”

“Not at all, Master Dick,” Alfred reassured him, squeezing the boy’s shoulder once again. “I’ve known for much longer than you have, but Batman is such a large part of who Master Bruce is, I can’t imagine not knowing.”

“Me neither,” Dick agreed. “We’ve shared so much and grown so much closer since I’ve found out, and I wouldn’t want to go back to the way we were before. I remember being so mad all the time when he would get a call and suddenly have to leave. At least now I understand why, and I know he does it because he has an obligation to the people of this city. It was never anything personal, and I know he hid it from me for protection – mine and his – but…” Dick trailed off, shaking his head and biting his lip in uncertainty. “Is it egotistical to feel proud that he trusts me with all of this now? That he lets me _help_ him with his cases? I mean, he doesn’t have to do that. He could still tell me it’s none of my business.”

“I don’t think it’s egotistical to feel that way, no,” Alfred said around a smile. “This is a big responsibility, one that Master Bruce doesn’t put on just anyone. Yes, you wormed your way into it, but he wouldn’t be including you now if he didn’t trust you immensely. That’s something to be proud of, I think.”

This caused Dick to smile once more. That was one thing Alfred could always be counted on for – to cheer Dick up even when he couldn’t possibly think of smiling. The more Dick thought about Alfred’s words, he still couldn’t quite believe that he had indeed figured Bruce’s secret identity out on his own, nor could he believe that it had only been a few short months ago. So much had happened since then, it felt like an eternity.

Then, Dick’s thoughts once again settled on the matter at hand. “You really think he’s okay?” Dick asked, looking up at Alfred hopefully.

“We have to think positively, Master Dick,” Alfred answered. “Fearing the worst will only make you feel worse, and oftentimes, you come to find out that that all could have been prevented. Believe me, I laid awake in bed too many times to count, certain that something horrible had happened, only to find Master Bruce safe and sound the next morning.”

“I keep telling myself that that’ll happen tomorrow,” Dick said, “but…” He trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

“It will,” Alfred reassured. “But how about some warm milk? It’ll help calm you down and perhaps you can get some sleep before Master Bruce arrives home and regales us with the story of how he caught the Joker this time.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, standing up from his chair.

Alfred led the way out of the room, Dick trailing behind. Dick only wished he could be as positive as Alfred was. He supposed that Alfred had learned a long time ago that Batman always returned home safe and sound, but good things always came to an end, didn’t they? Dick could easily lose Bruce just like he had lost his parents. As much as Dick didn’t want to admit it, Batman’s luck would eventually run out, and then what? What would Dick do without Bruce? Without the man who had become like a father to him?

Dick knew he was getting way ahead of himself, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something very horrible had happened.

_What on earth could have possibly become of Batman, Batfans?_  
_Is he still hanging on for dear life?_  
_Has he figured out a way to escape the Joker’s devilish trap?_  
_Is Dick right to be so worried?_

_For the answers to these and other unthinkable questions,_  
_Tune in next time…_  
_Same fan site..._  
_Same fan channel._

_Keep hanging on until then!_


	3. On His Guard

_When we last left Dick Grayson, youthful ward of millionaire Bruce Wayne, it had been nearing the midnight hour as he worried with Alfred over his guardian’s whereabouts. With the sun dawning anew upon Gotham City, let us see how Dick has gotten through the night._

Dick fell into a fitful sleep that evening. Even with Alfred’s cup of warm milk, it had done nothing to calm his nerves, and he had ended up tossing and turning most of the night. Dick eventually passed out from pure exhaustion, only sleeping for a few short hours before he opened his eyes to bright spring sunshine streaming through his window.

Squinting against the unwelcome intrusion, Dick sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He immediately knew that Bruce was still gone, however; Bruce would have come into his room to tell him he was home no matter the hour. Since he hadn’t done that, it meant that Bruce was still missing. The uncomfortable feeling that had been present in Dick’s stomach the night before suddenly seemed to transform into a brick. It pressed uncomfortably against his insides, making him feel vaguely sick.

Then again, Dick made a mental note not to get ahead of himself. If Bruce hadn’t come home, that still didn’t mean that Alfred hadn’t heard from him at some point during the night. Perhaps Alfred currently had some good news waiting for him, and then Dick could stop all of this incessant worrying. In the back of Dick’s mind, however, he knew that that wasn’t true. If Alfred had received any sort of good news, he would have notified Dick immediately. Dick had been tied in knots the night before, and he knew Alfred never would have let him remain in that state if he could help it.

Throwing back his covers, Dick let out a heavy sigh before lowering his feet to the floor. He slid his feet into his slippers, getting up from his bed and grabbing his robe from the chair near the door. Shrugging his robe on, Dick wrenched open the door and slowly made his way downstairs.

Dick’s nose told him that Alfred had made eggs and bacon for breakfast. Normally, Dick would have been running down the steps, ready to devour his first meal of the day. As it was, however, Dick didn’t think he’d ever quite feel like eating again. At least, not until Bruce was home safe and sound.

Alfred was waiting at the bottom of the steps, and the grim expression on his face told Dick everything he needed to know. Sighing again, Dick descended the last few steps to the foyer, firmly grabbing onto the railing for support.

“Anything?” Dick asked quietly, his eyes wide and pleading.

Alfred simply shook his head, his eyes betraying his concern. What had been positivity last night had quickly degraded into concern, and Dick couldn’t blame him. But now, who was supposed to lift Dick’s spirits and keep him from worrying too much?

“Alfred, something’s wrong!” Dick exclaimed in a whisper. He wasn’t quite sure where Aunt Harriet was this morning, and he didn’t want to risk her overhearing their conversation.

Alfred took a few steps over to Dick, laying his hand comfortingly on top of Dick’s over the railing. “Master Dick,” Alfred said quietly, “as soon as we eat breakfast, I’m going to call Commissioner Gordon to see if he’s heard anything. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Why not now?!” Dick demanded loudly. He was aware of the fact that he sounded vaguely like a bratty child who had not gotten his way, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

“It’s still early,” Alfred reminded him. “The Commissioner probably isn’t even in the office yet. Give him a minute and let’s get some food in our systems first. We’ll work better on a full stomach.”

“I’m not even hungry,” Dick muttered, tugging angrily at the belt around his robe. He crossed him arms over his chest, his mind running absolutely crazy with possibilities about where Bruce could be. Or if Bruce was even among the living anymore. This made Dick feel even more sick, and he forced his mind off of that topic altogether.

“We’ll find him,” Alfred tried to reassure him, but even his voice was beginning to waver now.

Just then, Aunt Harriet entered the foyer from the living room and she appeared quite perturbed herself. “Merciful heavens, is Bruce missing a meal again?” she asked fretfully, curling her hands into fists. “I swear, that man would waste away if we weren’t here to keep an eye on him half the time!”

Dick had to force himself to keep his mouth shut. He really wanted to begin yelling that they had no idea where Bruce was. Bruce could have been dead for all they knew, and Aunt Harriet was fussing over a few eggs and bacon of all things. Dick loved his Aunt Harriet and he knew it wasn’t her fault, but Dick realized just then how difficult it could be to keep Bruce’s secret when things went awry.

“Mrs. Cooper,” Alfred said as firmly as he could, “I’m sure Master Bruce is getting a good breakfast wherever he may be. You know how important three square meals are to him.” Alfred wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders as he led her into the kitchen.

Dick watched them go. Again, he was finding just how very difficult it was not to comment on the situation. Wherever Bruce was, Dick was entirely sure eating wasn’t a priority to him at the moment. If Bruce was able to do such things like eat at all, he would have already at least phoned them to let them know he was okay. As it was, Dick knew something much more dire was going on.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dick forced himself to follow Alfred and Aunt Harriet into the kitchen. He still wasn’t the last bit hungry, but he knew he had to put up appearances for his aunt. If Dick wouldn’t eat, then Aunt Harriet would have twice as much to worry about then just Bruce’s eating habits.

Dick forced down as much of his breakfast as he could. Every single bite felt like a chore, and Dick was simply going through the motions until breakfast was over. The only thing Dick wanted to do at the moment was to contact Commissioner Gordon and hopefully get some answers as to Bruce’s whereabouts. Dick still wasn’t entirely sure that the Commissioner could help them either, but they had to start somewhere.

After what felt like forever, the breakfast dishes had been cleaned up, and Dick followed Alfred into Bruce’s study. This was another thing that Dick was still getting used to. Bruce’s study had always been off limits to him before, and a part of Dick felt like he was intruding now. Bruce had told him it was okay for him to be in there now that he knew Bruce’s secret, but it still almost felt like a sacred place that Dick shouldn’t be in.

Alfred made his way over to the Batphone, picked up the receiver, and pressed the big large button in the middle of the base.

Normally, Dick would mind his own business and wait across the room until the phone call was over. However, given the seriousness of the circumstances, he simply couldn’t contain himself. Dick crossed the room to Alfred, stood on his tiptoes, and leaned in so that he could hear the Commissioner’s side of the conversation as well. When Alfred didn’t make any objections, Dick knew that it was okay.

“Batman!” came Commissioner Gordon’s voice on the other end of the line a few moments later. “Oh, thank goodness! Chief O’Hara and I were beginning to get worried when we hadn’t heard from you since yesterday.”

These words made Dick’s heart sink even further. It now felt as if his heart was sitting in the vicinity of his stomach. If the Commissioner didn’t even know where Batman was, then this was very serious indeed.

“No, sir,” Alfred said, his voice cracking a bit. “It’s me.” Alfred took a moment to straighten the pens on the desk, and Dick could tell he was just as nervous. After swallowing loudly, Alfred said, “I hadn’t heard from Batman since yesterday either, and…I was getting concerned myself.”

A moment of silence punctuated the room. No one said anything and no one moved a muscle. The only thing Dick could hear was Alfred’s heavy breathing and the erratic beating of his heart inside his own chest. Dick looked up into Alfred’s bright blue eyes, and they seemed to reflect Dick’s own concern.

After a moment, Commissioner Gordon replied, “Unfortunately, we haven’t had any updates either.” More silence. “Do you know where he was headed last? I could send my men to check it out.”

Dick wasn’t entirely sure that that was such a great idea. More than once, it had occurred to him just how incompetent the police department was. Dick never commented on the matter, and Bruce was always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, reminding all involved that everyone made mistakes. As it was though, Gotham City wouldn’t even have a need for Batman if the police department was doing a good job, would it? Dick knew that Bruce would be disappointed in him for thinking so lowly of the police force, the people who put their lives on the line to serve this city, but Dick couldn’t help where his thoughts went sometimes. Dick just made a mental note to never talk about such things, especially in front of Bruce.

Alfred hesitated for the briefest moment, and Dick wondered if he was having the same exact reservations. In the end, however, Dick supposed they had to start somewhere. If the police department wasn’t going to go after him, then who? There was no one else.

“He left yesterday afternoon to follow a lead at the Joker’s Wild Card Company,” Alfred said after a moment. “That was the last I heard anything from him.”

“I will have my men check it out immediately!” Commissioner Gordon said. “I will let you know the minute we have any news!”

“Thank you,” Alfred said quietly, replacing the receiver in its cradle.

Alfred and Dick stood and stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Neither of them said a word, and Dick shoved his hands into the pockets of robe just for something to do.

“This is bad,” Dick finally muttered, turning away from the butler and beginning to pace the room. “If the police don’t even know where he is…” Dick trailed off, not able to form such thoughts into words. Turning back to face Alfred, Dick desperately asked, “What are we going to do?”

“We are going to wait until we hear something back from the Commissioner,” Alfred said. Somehow, miraculously, he had seemed to regain his composure and his tone was as calm as ever.

“Alfred…” Dick began, but Alfred gently cut him off.

“We are going to wait.”

Dick forced himself into silence. He had to admit that Alfred was right; there was simply nothing else for them to do at the moment. Staring down at the ground, Dick could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, and he tried his best to blink them away.

“Today is going to be awful, isn’t it?” Dick asked, glancing up at Alfred. “I think I did my share of waiting yesterday.”

“As did I,” Alfred said. He stepped closer to Dick, curling an arm around his shoulders. “But we’ll wait some more. Don’t worry. The police are going to find something.”

Dick wasn’t entirely sure about that, but he chose not to say anything. Such a thing wouldn’t be helpful or prudent right now. They had enough to worry about at the moment without Dick bringing things down even more with his pessimistic attitude. Besides, wouldn’t Bruce want him to look on the bright side? Dick very much doubted that Bruce would want him to be wallowing in despair when they didn’t even know what was going on yet.

“What do we do until then?” Dick asked. “I finished all my homework yesterday, and I even finished my term paper. I have nothing else left to work on.”

“You can help me clean,” Alfred immediately volunteered. “There’s always something in the Batcave that needs tended to.”

Dick grimaced. Cleaning wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, but he didn’t know what else to do. In the end, Dick supposed that sticking close by Alfred’s side through this wasn’t a terrible option. It sure beat being alone, and Dick liked being in the Batcave; it always managed to make him feel closer to Bruce at times like this.

Alfred began leading him out of the room. “Why don’t you go get showered, and dressed, and meet me down there when you’re ready?”

Dick nodded solemnly. At least showering would give him something to do in the meantime. It had only now occurred to him that he probably would feel much better once he was clean and in a change of clothes anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dick ended up helping Alfred in the Batcave until nearly lunchtime. Dick had gotten the task of polishing the ladder rungs on the nuclear reactor, and truth be told, he hadn’t realized exactly how dirty they’d gotten over time. The simple act of people’s shoes traveling up and down the ladder rungs certainly trailed a lot of dirt over them.

Dick didn’t really hate what he was doing either. Sure, it might sound like boring manual labor, something that might be forced upon a child as punishment, but he actually found himself enjoying it for some odd reason. The ladder rungs had grooves in them, and Dick ended up being amused by trying to scrub the dirt out of those crevices. Perhaps he was just weird.

Just as Dick was finishing up with the ladder rung at the very top, the Batphone began beeping. The sound echoed throughout the cave, and it nearly made Dick jump a mile in the air. He had been desperately waiting for that sound for the last twenty-four hours, and now that he heard it, it didn’t quite seem real.

Dick glanced across the cave at Alfred. The Butler had been carefully cleaning the dust from between the keys at the Batcomputer. He immediately looked up at Dick when he heard the sound of the Batphone, their eyes connecting for what felt like an eternity.

Finally springing into motion, Alfred used the rag he was holding to wipe off his hands while he made his way across the Batcave. Meanwhile, Dick threw down his own rag, carelessly letting it drop the floor. Bruce would have probably scolded him for that; it wasn’t polite nor was it safe to throw things like dirty rags about. Someone could have been walking past and they could have easily slipped on it. Considering the circumstances, however, Dick thought it might be okay just this one time. There were much more important things going on than the location of dirty rags!

Dick descended the ladder rungs two at a time, quickly dropping to the floor of the Batcave. He sprinted across the room, arriving at Alfred’s side just as he picked up the Batphone’s receiver.

“Hello?” Alfred asked into the receiver, not entirely sure who was going to be on the other end.

Dick was hoping against hope that Bruce’s strong and calm voice would meet them from the other end, ensuring them that he had gotten to safety, but it wasn’t meant to be. The police commissioner ended up answering back, and a tiny part of Dick wondered if he would ever hear Bruce’s voice again. He really missed that – just the simple sound of his mentor’s voice.

“I was checking to see if you’ve heard from Batman yet,” Commissioner Gordon said.

At this, Alfred frowned deeply, staring down at Dick. In response, Dick closed his eyes and lowered his head. That one sentence from the Commissioner more or less answered their question – he had no idea where Batman was any more than they did.

Alfred laid a comforting hand on Dick’s shoulder before he replied, “No, sir. We haven’t.”

There was a burning silence on the other end of the line for a few brief moments. Then the Commissioner sighed and said, “Nor have we, unfortunately. I sent my men to check out the Joker’s Wild Card Company. Strangely enough, we found the Batmobile outside of the factory itself, but absolutely no sign of Batman. We swept the building from top to bottom and it appears that the Joker and his gang were there not so very long ago, but it’s empty now. We found evidence that Batman did indeed make it inside, but what happened to him after that, we’re not sure. We assume that they all left together, but whether it was under the Joker’s will or Batman’s remains to be seen. We’re still going over the evidence we recovered from the scene, and we’ll continue to search for them.”

Dick shook his head miserably, taking a few steps away from Alfred. Dick couldn’t quite bear to stand there and listen to the police’s misguided attempts at trying to find Batman. Dick had already found a glaring mistake in what Commissioner Gordon had said, and it was taking everything in him not to shout it out right then and there.

If Batman had been the least bit in control of the situation, he would have contacted Dick and Alfred as soon as he could. There was absolutely no way Bruce would have gone this long letting them worry about him.

“Please let me know if you hear anything,” Alfred said. He was trying his best to keep his voice from shaking, but the quiver in it was completely obvious to Dick at least.

After Alfred hung up the Batphone, an immense, heavy, and deafening silence engulfed the Batcave. It took Dick a very long time before he could turn back to face Alfred again, and he really wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was that all too familiar feeling of losing something that was so very important to him. If Dick was truly honest with himself, this was very well-known territory to him.

The exact same thing had happened just after his parents had died. He had retreated into his own personal shell, deliberately isolating himself from anyone that tried to get close to him. It was exactly why he almost hadn’t met Bruce on that fateful first day of summer two years ago. It was why it had taken him nearly a year to even begin to warm up to the man and let himself get close to Bruce.

Because Dick was terrified of losing anyone else close to him. But then he had begun to let Bruce in, and it all seemed to happen so very quickly. Alfred too. Now if Bruce was gone, it was Dick’s very instinct to try and push Alfred away so he couldn’t be hurt anymore.

Except Bruce wasn’t dead yet. Not that they were aware of yet anyway. So why was Dick automatically assuming he was? Because that would be par for the course where Dick was concerned, wouldn’t it? His parents had died so it wouldn’t really be out of the realm of possibility that something could happen to Bruce as well.

But this was stupid. Bruce could very well still be out there and Dick had to stop trying to write him off as dead already. There was possibly still time to save him, and it wouldn’t do Bruce any good if Dick started to close himself off from the world right now.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dick took a deep breath before turning back to face Alfred once more.

“What are we going to do?” Dick asked. That was his go-to question at the moment, it seemed.

“They’re still looking into it,” Alfred said as calmly as he could. “We’re going to wait.”

“Except something is seriously wrong, Alfred,” Dick said, beginning to pace up and down the center of the Batcave. He was wringing his hands together, one inside the other. After a moment of silence, he stopped and turned back to look at Alfred. “Has he ever been gone this long before?”

Alfred considered this, his eyes seeming to become unfocused, as if he was remembering some long-forgotten memory. “No, Master Dick. I can safely say that he hasn’t. The only other time that has come close was when Catwoman had him trapped in some sort of underground lair. It took him a while to find his way out of that one, but even then, he got word to me as soon as he was able. He had been gone just overnight at that point.”

“Nowhere near twenty-four hours.”

“No.”

Dick shook his head. It boggled his mind that Bruce had obviously already been able to get out of so many scrapes. How did he seem to manage to do it every time? It was like he was some sort of god or something, even though Dick knew that he shouldn’t think of any mere human in such a way. Then again, this was Bruce. Bruce had always seemed a bit infallible to him, which was why it hurt so much whenever Bruce did do things like cancel their plans together. No one was perfect, least of all Bruce, but in some ways, Dick thought that Bruce was probably as close to perfect in his eyes as anyone was likely to come. Even with the fact that Bruce did break promises to him, Dick knew now that it had always been for good reasons. He hadn’t been able to see that at first, but he did now. Bruce was…amazing. Absolutely amazing.

Dick knew Bruce wouldn’t want him to view him in that way; Bruce would insist he wasn’t all that great, that he still made mistake and had an enormous amount of flaws, but Dick couldn’t help the way he felt. Now that he knew Bruce’s secret identity, Bruce was more or less Dick’s hero, and weren’t heroes always put up on some sort of pedestal?

That thought, however, also planted a tiny seed of doubt in Dick’s mind. Even with how amazing Bruce was, his luck was bound to run out sooner or later. He couldn’t keep flawlessly escaping from these crazy criminals’ clutches, could he? Heroes always seemed to fall down off those pedestals they were put up on. At some point or another, he had to slip up...and then what? What was Gotham City supposed to do if something happened to their beloved hero? Dick only wished that there was someone else to go after Batman, someone that would keep an eye on him and make sure that he stayed safe at all times.

But who? Who on earth did Dick know who was comparable to Batman? Who did Dick know who could step in in the unlikely case that Batman happened to falter? When Batman wasn’t perfect? What if, after all their investigation, the police department came up empty-handed? Shouldn’t that then fall to the citizens of Gotham City? But who exactly could fill those shoes? People like Alfred and Aunt Harriet were the citizens of Gotham City, but Dick could scarcely imagine one of them running into some villain’s hideout in search of Batman.

Dick’s thoughts began to drift into what he thought was most likely very dangerous territory next, so he tried to divert them back to something a little bit more manageable. At least for now.

Shaking his head, Dick said, “Don’t you feel how very wrong this is? You know if he was able to get word to us at all, he would have done so by now. He wouldn’t be letting us drive ourselves crazy, wondering where he’s been for the last twenty-four hours.” Dick paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but he’s _got_ to be in some sort of trouble _somewhere_. And it isn’t like Commissioner Gordon suggested.” Dick waved his hand absent-mindedly at the Batphone. “Batman isn’t chasing the Joker somewhere, because _we both know_ he would have let us know if he was. Someone or something is keeping him from contacting us.”

Alfred didn’t say anything for a long time, but then he finally decided to ask the loaded question. “So what are you proposing?”

Dick bit his lip in uncertainty. He was ready for Alfred to tell him he was completely crazy. To scold him in that calm and understated tone of his and tell him not to even think about such ridiculous things. But when it came right down to it, what Dick wanted to do wasn’t all that crazy if he thought about it.

“I want to check out that factory,” Dick said firmly.

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, “the police have already done that.”

“What if they missed something?” Dick asked, sounding a bit desperate. “Commissioner Gordon said so himself that the place was deserted now. That the Joker and his gang had left. What’s the harm in going and looking? What if I see something that the police have missed? What if I spot something that could help us find him?”

Alfred didn’t miss the particular word that Dick used – _us_ – because his eyes momentarily pierced Dick with a penetrating stare.

Before Alfred could interrupt, however, Dick said, “This is why Bruce lets me help him, you know. Because I have an eye for certain things. Because I can spot things that oftentimes he can’t.”

“Yes,” Alfred said a bit wearily. “Master Bruce deeply values your input, but you know he would never want to you get involved in this. Didn’t he make you promise that whatever happened, you would stay out of it?”

“We didn’t talk about the possibility that something could happen to Bruce himself!” Dick argued. “Under normal circumstances, then yes, I promised I would stay out of it, but these aren’t quite normal circumstances anymore, are they?”

Alfred simply stared at him, not daring to say anything more at the moment. “No,” Alfred finally admitted. “I’m sure even Master Bruce would have refrained from calling these ‘normal circumstances’, but even so, you made him a promise. End of story. You know he wouldn’t want you to be going to the Joker’s hideout after him. Even if the police found it deserted, there’s no telling when or if they may return. What if…?”

Dick knew exactly what Alfred had been planning on saying, so Dick aptly cut him off. “What if Bruce is in some sort of trouble he can’t get out of and no one is coming to help him? Not even the police,” Dick added dejectedly, staring down at the floor of the Batcave. “What if there’s something they missed? Something I can _find_? What if I can _do_ something, Alfred?”

“What if you ended up finding trouble yourself?” Alfred asked. He took several steps towards Dick, closing the distance between them. Alfred laid his hands on the young boy’s shoulders, gripping them firmly. “The police have enough to deal with at the moment trying to find Batman, and you don’t want to put even more on their plate. Not to mention, you know Master Bruce wouldn’t want you putting yourself in harm’s way, even for him. That’s why he made you make that promise to him.”

“I know,” Dick admitted, sounded dejected. “But I feel like I can _help_ , Alfred. What if this is the one time that Batman falters? What if I can help him? Shouldn’t I _do_ something instead of standing here and wondering? I mean, if worse comes to worst, how will I feel knowing I did nothing while the man’s that been like a father to me was dying?”

“We don’t know…”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Dick cut him off gently once again. “We don’t know, so isn’t it time to take that chance instead of _doing nothing_? And don’t even tell me that the police are on it, because we both know they can fail as well. It’s partially why this city needs Batman at all.” Alfred raised an eyebrow at him and added, “Oh, I would never say this to Bruce’s face, but you and I both know it’s true.”

“A fourteen-year-old boy is hardly the one to step in when the police can’t help,” Alfred pointed out. “We both know that and so does Master Bruce. We both know he would want you to stay right here where you’re safe. Even searching what may be an abandoned factory for a few clues isn’t what Master Bruce would have wanted for you, even if he was staring death in the face.”

“Well…” Dick muttered, but then he cut himself. He knew that Alfred spoke nothing but the truth. This was why Dick had had that conversation with Bruce in his bedroom at all – the one where Dick had emphatically promised not to put his life in danger.

“But…don’t desperate times call for desperate measures?” Dick asked. “Isn’t there a time when promises need to be broken? Not to mention, hasn’t Bruce already done enough for me? Isn’t it time that I finally do something for him instead?”

“I wasn’t suggesting that he hasn’t done a lot for you,” Alfred said gently. “I know he has. He’s done a lot for me too, and I would never suggest otherwise. Master Bruce is…almost amazing in all that he’s done for…everyone.”

“That’s exactly what I mean!” Dick exclaimed, throwing up his hands for emphasis. “Isn’t it about time that someone do something for him?”

“That’s not what you said before,” Alfred pointed out. “You said that _you_ should do something to help him.”

Dick paused. He suddenly found it hard to meet Alfred’s eyes. Dick stared down at the floor of the Batcave at their feet. After what seemed like forever, Dick whispered, “He has been training me.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred interrupted, “at first you only wanted to search the factory.” He let go of Dick’s shoulders, beginning to pace up and down the Batcave. “Now you’re talking about the minimal training that Master Bruce has provided you with.”

“I have to be prepared in case they come back!” Dick cried. “I mean, ideally they won’t, but I have to be ready in case they do.”

Alfred stared at him and then he shook his head. “You’re talking crazy now. I hesitate to use that word, but imagine what Master Bruce would say if he was standing here right now. Imagine what he would tell you if you started talking about all these plans to run into the Joker’s hideout.”

“But Bruce isn’t here right now,” Dick said. “He isn’t, and he may never be again if I don’t do something. The longer we stand here talking…”

“You’re getting way too ahead of yourself,” Alfred interrupted, still not willing to even let Dick fathom for a moment that this could be a possibility. “Think about this,” Alfred implored. “Really think about this. You don’t know if it’s some sort of trap or what’s really going on with him. He could be using Batman as some sort of lure…”

“But no one knows he has me, Alfred!” Dick cut him off, the solution seeming to hit him so clearly and so easily. “The Riddler was able to figure it out, sure, but…he was the only one. And since you and Batman were able to put that ridiculous rumor to rest, I can’t see who else the Joker would be after. Who else is there for him to lure into a trap? Batman would be the most valuable thing someone like the Joker could possibly have. How can he imagine ever topping that?”

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out at first. Then he tilted his head back and forth several times in thought.

“ _The Joker doesn’t know he has me_ ,” Dick repeated, this time taking a moment to emphasize every single word he was saying. Dick suddenly resumed his pacing, his plan beginning to take shape in his mind and making him more excited with every word he spoke. “It could be the perfect opportunity to sneak in there and _help_ him. I don’t know what sort of help that could possibly be, but…” Dick stopped, turning back to Alfred and giving him a very pleading look. “I don’t know, Alfred, but I know _I’ve got to try_.”

A very long an uncomfortable silence fell across the cave. Alfred’s mind was working furiously, because Dick could almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Dick threw his mind about, desperately trying to come up with another argument before Alfred told him once and for all to stop this foolish nonsense.

“How old was Bruce when he went off on his first investigation?” Dick asked before he could stop himself. He almost thought that he was overstepping his bounds, that he was poking and prodding too much, but Dick knew he couldn’t stop. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt now that Bruce was in serious trouble, and Dick was hardly going to stand around wondering for another moment.

“That is hardly a fair question to ask,” Alfred said. His tone was firm, unwavering.

“Was he my age?” Dick asked boldly.

Alfred watched him closely, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. When he finally spoke, he said, “As a matter of fact, he was. And he had been in martial arts classes for years by that point.” He gave Dick a pointed look.

“So have I!” Dick exclaimed. “My life didn’t start when I came here, Alfred. You know I had martial arts training as part of my circus career.”

“You said so yourself,” Alfred reminded him, “you feel rusty and out of practice, and you’ve only been training with Master Bruce for a few weeks.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t do it,” Dick argued. “You heard the story of what happened with the Riddler when Batman came to rescue me. Even Bruce said he could tell how well-trained I was.” Dick really didn’t like patting himself on the back. In fact, all the people he’d ever looked up to in his life were terribly humble and had taught him to be the very same way. However, there were times in life when such things were excusable, such as when he was trying to convince Alfred to let him lead a rescue mission for Batman.

“I’m not denying you’re well-trained,” Alfred conceded, “but you also had Batman’s help then. You weren’t fighting the Riddler and his cohorts by yourself. Do you really mean to tell me that you could take on the Joker and several of his henchmen by yourself?”

Dick wanted nothing more than to keep pushing his point, but he couldn’t flat-out lie to Alfred. He knew that Alfred was only looking out for his best interests. Not to mention, Alfred also had a duty to Bruce to uphold what he would have wanted. Dick knew that Alfred wasn’t just going to let him go out on his own to fight a bunch of criminals.

Letting out a heavy breath, Dick shook his head and stared down at the floor of the Batcave. “No,” Dick muttered.

“I know you want to help Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “I want to help him too, but far be it from me to send you off to what could possibly be your death. I’d have Master Bruce to answer to in the end if it came to that.”

Dick contained the urge to roll his eyes. “Alfred…”

“I’m not exaggerating,” Alfred cut him off. “These are hardened and dangerous criminals! I don’t want you to have any overblown expectations about how you would handle yourself against them. If Batman could get himself into sticky spots, you very easily could as well. Master Bruce has been doing this for _decades_. He’s been doing this for a lot longer than you’ve even been alive.” Perhaps noticing the slight look of hurt in Dick’s eyes at his words, Alfred added, “And that’s not a slight on your age, Master Dick. Not at all. You’re ridiculously mature for your age, and I sometimes have to remind myself that you’re only fourteen. But I need you to realize how very much longer Master Bruce has been at this. How he can still get caught off-guard no matter how well-prepared he might be. How you still need a lot more training before you’ll be ready for something like this.”

“I know I do,” Dick admitted. “I know I’m not even remotely prepared for this, but…sometimes we have to step up to the challenges that life presents us with. I know something bad has happened to Bruce, and I know I can help him. I’m not going to rest until I at least go and take a look at that factory. That’s it. Can I say for sure that the Joker won’t be there? No, but this is something I have to do for Bruce. Alfred, I have to.” Dick made sure he was looking directly into the butler’s eyes when he spoke his next words. “No one was there to save my parents, and I’m not going to let the same thing happen to Bruce. I won’t.”

Alfred didn’t say anything, but he was watching Dick closely. His eyes were suddenly going up and down Dick’s body so intently that Dick suddenly began to feel slightly self-conscious.

“Well. If you’re really intent on going,” Alfred said slowly, punctuating every word, “you really don’t plan on going looking like that, do you?”

_Is Alfred really going to support Dick in his crusade?_  
_What does Alfred have in mind for Dick’s wardrobe?_  
_Will Dick be able to find Batman in time?_  
_Will there be anyone left to save?_

_We will find out next time, Batfans!_  
_So tune in…_  
_Same fan site..._  
_Same fan channel._

_We can only hope Dick isn’t too late and that he doesn’t run into the Joker himself!_


End file.
